Misty Maroon Moon glows,
hazy in cloudy sky
on mystic ebon night !
Moonbeam mesmerizes
whelming muzzy lovers
turning them lunatic.
One great thing - is essentially -
like any other great thing.
They all fly from the same center,
not an anatomical space,
not a specific thingness,
but one revealed goldmine
overpouring.
What did I see,
what do I see?
Butter,
you buttering toast,
your hair all muzzy from sleep.
Yellow sunlight on the kitchen counter.
The blue plate
that has no ready words,
yet speaks for the billions,
that shine from
the one yellow yoke,
in its broken eggshell.
Drawing-
A sparking, lines however hard it tries,
Will always be preliminary lines of my picture.
Now exploratory is just the thing,
To get me wondering if the sparking is explorative so sheik
Drawing.
Pencil, crayon, felt marker
I saw the pale cover of my generation destroyed,
How I mourned the paper I paint.
Water dripping everywhere, how quaint
Does the paint make you shiver?
Does it?
Learning is observational process I’m drawing.
Observational process is learning designing.
Never forget the muzzy and muddled fuzzy learning.
A sparking, lines however hard it tries,
Will always be preliminary lines of my picture.
Now exploratory is just the thing,
To get me wondering if the sparking is explorative so sheik
Drawing.
6/7/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.©
Darkness sheds my sight
But dreams illuminate my night
I am covered with dust and look cowed
I still see my path through the muzzy cloud
Thick smoke irks my eyes
I close them to visualize my prize
I unravel the world behind a closed door
A mind roaming free unafraid to explore
No jewelry on my neck to show
I just hold on to my inner glows
No clout for my name to draw
I keep dreaming in the shadows
Recalling the Time
Written: by Tom Wright
3/10/2014
I can recall, in pictorial thought, the time,
When reaching my point of desperation;
Envisioning faintly, a death bell’s chime,
Feeling confused I confronted damnation;
Thus far in life executing on my own,
I reasoned that I was above the test;
Only later regretting some deed I’d sown,
That I thought perhaps was of my best.
Often in my sub-conscious I’d be settled,
That what I was experiencing was sure.
Sound advice commonly left me nettled,
And in solitude I reached out for a cure;
Just then a miraculous thing happened,
Far outpacing a childlike understanding;
God cleansed the heart once blackened,
Bringing peace and a life less demanding;
For from my body He had uprooted cancer,
Inducing psyche to feel faintly muzzy;
For serving a risen Savior was the answer,
Transforming my life into warm and fuzzy;
transmogrify
once upon a time
one knew how to begin
the state of the day dream,
by removing the mind,
shedding the every day
paraphernalia, then escaping
into a realm just
above the physical
wishes were formed
refined into possibilities.
great words were put together
fashioning unforgettable thoughts
ideas. solve the world,
feed the hungry, succour the afflicted
find lasting love
with someone who understands.
that was once upon time
when youth invaded every corner
of life with depth of
time. now it has shrunk
crept away unnoticed into
the place of things forgotten.
reverie of age has become,
into this wandering mind-time
now the escape does
not require active initiation.
it flows without boundaries
between here, now, and then.
the shape has changed from
slightly tenuous but graspable
to muzzy melted cotton candy
clouds sweet but impossible
to construct. depth is lost
with the passage of time
the betrayer of all day dreams.
presently lay down,
surrounded by personnel myths
slowly, gently transmogrify
into whom you have always been.
I shiver but still sit down to write
Sadly the words lack the strength to come
My head sorely throbs,my throat is tight
My brain feels muzzy and oh so numb
Images die in a throbbing head
My pen hangs heavy while fingers ache
Similes abort and I sneeze instead
Hacking coughs my inspiration take
All I want to do is curl up in bed
No Muse at all can lighten my mood
Warm covers,not verse , comfort instead
Words once subtle have now become crude
No break on the horizon do I see
Life feels so empty,worthless ,full of pain
Poems banished for a hot cup of tea
Brightness I need to inspire my dull brain
Something is coming
We are freezing
Days when we want to do everything
But all we can do is that studying and nothing
After reading exam paper we feel muzzy
And before reading it we feel buzzy
Our minds din
Then we pin
Everything seems lour
But we have to create pour
Wish it could be a strike lab
So we would have become scab
I am afraid they are coming
We are freezing
I pray to those exam days
Please go easy on us
The most effective medicine against sickness.
Her camel scene, a merit against illness.
Inconspicuous, obscure, mystique princess.
My magical mystery ride.
Purest thing have ever felt,
sweetest dream have ever dreamt
scenario of muzzy snowballed past tense.
My magical mystery ride.
I dont care what people say
I’m born again everyday
So I say, no pain, no gain
my magical mystery ride.
Love her perfect imperfection
my worst distraction snowballed no tention.
like a tortoise at ease, no pressure.
my magical mystery ride.
My utopia , my rythem and blue
oh! most high, for her love am a ‘fool’
haters on the queue we just keep our cool
And water will never run dry for me and you.
my magical mystery ride.
Sammy kyle
Nobody wants to hear it
when it's just about you.
Don't exaggerate
the effect of sympathy.
That's arrogance.
They want
pleasant tales of nature
with muzzy but congenial morals.
They want
tales of common spirit,
sympathetic, without faces,
token journeys through
foreign lands, told
like fairy tales.
Nothing should be
about you but
the passing breeze.
A distinguished pair of spectacles, selfless and serene, doze snuggly atop a
Proud bureau of drawers.
A placid fireplace yawns and winks
As giggling embers tango on tiptoes with
Lilliputian logs,
haughtily cackling a cacaphonous tune.
Outside a stoic mist galumphs betwixt gregarious
shrubs and egotistical stars
Dewy eyed and squinting, windows, aching and arched, peep out--
Out to the blaring beams from a crochety moon.
A pensive pair of spectacles ruminates on sights
Carefully seen--
Of frugal birds and courteous walkways
And terraces splendid and keen
Now a scent of myrrh caresses the room
A pillow of mist blushing, blows kisses to
A muzzy moon
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